


Day 7. Kozume Kenma/Oikawa Tooru – Worship

by Falka_tyan



Series: Kinktober 2017 [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Blow Jobs, Body Modification, Body Worship, Collars, Coma, Dark, Dom/sub, Everyone is Something Between a Mutant and a Cyborg, Fighting, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Multi, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falka_tyan/pseuds/Falka_tyan
Summary: Kenma/Tetsurou and Hajime/Tooru are pairs of fighters who participate in battles on the Arena to entertain the public.Kenma and Tetsurou have been in a relationship for more than 70 years. Their life has become a weird mess of past happiness, possessive claims and hopelessness. Kenma can't bear it alone, and he secretly meets with his friend and lover Tooru to relieve the stress.Or: an Arena Fighters AU nobody has asked for.Beware: it's a dark fic! The drama level is heavy, and the smut level is quite low.





	Day 7. Kozume Kenma/Oikawa Tooru – Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my dear kittens!
> 
> I've come to you with another unexpected AU. I'm not suited to write short stories; I get a prompt, start to invent smut, want the one-shot to be shorter than 5k words...and end up adding layers onto layers onto layers of characters' past until it becomes a separate world in my head.
> 
> I'm also very bad at sad ends. Look at me and my fics: there is hope, in the end, they scream!
> 
> Another thing I'm bad at: writing OiKenma when I have Tetsurou in my fic. It was meant to be OiKenma centered, I swear.
> 
> See, I'm an absolute disaster.  
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy! Have a nice read!

 

They meet at the same time every second Tuesday of each month. It is less convenient than a meeting on Monday or Wednesday would be, but Tooru says he likes Tuesdays. Kenma doesn’t mind that much to argue.

It is a routine for them by now. First, they get rid of their companions. Then, they meet in the same old chapel in the middle of a wasteland surrounding the Arena living quarters.

In the case with Tooru, leaving home it is quite easy since Iwaizumi only acts like he owns his metamorph while in reality he deeply respects him and doesn’t restrict his freedom. Not that any outsiders need to know that, though.

On battle days, when Iwaizumi parades around collared Tooru on a short leash and the wavy-haired man walks proudly as if he were a big tamed cat, well-bred and spoiled, everyone thinks that Tooru is a mere plaything. The trick seems to work even with those who have been privileged to witness Tooru fighting before. Simple souls who have their heads up their own asses assume that Tooru is only good for showing off his marvellous fur and licking milk from Iwaizumi’s fingers. Kenma feels nothing but resentment towards those.

Of course, everything changes when Tooru enters the Arena. Miraculously, he appears to be smart, almost genius, and fully independent from his handler. His power works under his full control: Tooru’s materialized weapons do exactly what Tooru wants from them. Tooru’s measurement of power level/restrictions set for every instrument he materializes is impeccable. But when the beautiful brunet walks out of the fighting ring, victorious… the “cat” is back. It stretches its muscles languidly and purrs when its master scratches behind its ears. And just like that, Tooru returns to his role of the crowd’s favorite pet; he smiles, and charms, and blows flirty kisses. No one wants to remember that the cat has its claws anymore. The worse for them.

Kenma only wants to tug the haughty cat by its tail, not falling for its play even for a second. He has seen enough masks in his life. He has also seen more _Tooru’s_ masks than any average citizen. What he wants, is the real Tooru. Luckily, today is exactly the second Tuesday in Mai, and Kenma doesn’t have to wait much longer. Soon, he’ll have his lover honest and vulnerable, only for himself.

Kenma lets his mind wander, while he walks to their meeting place under the moonlit sky. He thinks of his stressful day on the battle field, of Kuroo’s new obsession with knee-socks, of the way Iwaizumi smiles at Tooru when the latter doesn’t see. Iwaizumi is, maybe, the best handler Kenma has ever met. No one else has been able to resist the corrupting life style of an Arena handler better than him, to Kenma’s point of view. It is quite an accomplishment: to not let the absolute power you have over other person turn you into a monster; to stay yourself in the given circumstances; to not wither under the constant pressure. What matters the most, Iwaizumi doesn’t demand from Tooru to stay at his beck and call all the time. Kenma appreciates that. Kenma knows what it’s worth better than any other metamorph.

He and Kuroo are a different thing entirely.

Kuroo is crazy about Kenma.

Like, literally _crazy_.

Kenma doesn’t have to play Kuroo’s slave in public. He doesn’t need to, since, however you put it, he _is one_. Kenma doesn’t take his collar off when he enters their home the way Tooru does when he enters his and Iwaizumi’s. Actually, wearing a collar is the least of Kenma’s problems when it comes to Kuroo.

Not that Kuroo doesn’t respect Kenma or thinks that he is superior to his metamorph. Or that he doesn’t ask for Kenma’s opinion on important matters, quite the opposite. He is just…insane? Can’t let Kenma wander more than a meter away from him when they’re out of their house without going berserk? Doesn’t let Kenma out of their house alone? Has installed cameras in every single room? But that’s OK. Kenma considers himself guilty of making Kuroo like that, so he bears with the consequences patiently.

Kuroo’s insanity used to scare Kenma. Though Kenma can’t recall when since it’s been such a long time. He got used to this lifestyle; what he can’t get used to is the abyss between him and Kuro which wasn’t there initially.

Kenma and Kuroo have been lovers long before they’ve come to the Arena. The last days of their life as friends-with-benefits (or soon-to-be boyfriends, or whatever title you may give to the easy camaraderie they’ve had) are still bright in Kenma’s head. These are the brightest memories he has, after all.

Kenma remembers their first visit to the fighting institution as clearly as if it’s been yesterday. Kuroo’s desperate face when the tests have shown that if he and Kenma want to form a permanent link of a fighter-pair, Kuroo has to be the handler, and not the metamorph. The numbness of Kenma’s own mind from all the frightening prospects this new place enlisted. And, above it all, the sunlight shining through the giant Arena windows and making a sort of halo around Kuroo’s mess of black bed head.

To say that Kenma has been surprised by the results would be an understatement. Between the two of them, he has always been the clever one (despite Kuroo’s own obvious intelligence). Kenma has thought that he would be a better handler (and Kuroo agreed whole-heartedly). But you don’t argue with the system.

Kenma’s “extremely rare” form of cancer also didn’t leave them much time for argument. The disease couldn’t be healed by usual means, the medics have said. Kenma still marvels sometimes: do they get paid for that? Do hospitals receive a donation from the Government every time they assure a promising youngster that his only way to survive is becoming an Arena fighter? There must be something to it; a day of research and Kenma would know for sure. But, of course, Kenma won’t ever accomplish this research: he and Kuroo will be “canceled” the same day he finds out the truth. No one wants their little puppets to learn too much, right?

The handler/metamorph couples receive new, perfectly healthy bodies, has said the advertisement. They get a house and medical insurance for the rest of their lives, as well as fame and love of many fans, it’s said… There must have been a trap somewhere, mustn’t it? Even being very young, Kenma could’ve guessed that much.

But the reality has exceeded his expectations. No brochure, aimed at recruiting new Arena fighters, ever mentions that the Government owns the bodies of those who decide to become handlers and metamorphs from the moment they sign the contract. If the naïve creatures fail to survive the initial tests, so be it. If the applicants go mad during the process of transformation, so be it. If the rookie fighters die in training, so be it. The Arena administration and the Government are not even required to inform the relatives if anything happens with the recruit (if there are any relatives, of course). Kenma has expected some ugly shit, but _this_ … Kenma and Kuroo have had to take a time-out to mull it over.

When they exited the glass building of the Arena administration, Kenma’s told Kuroo that this enterprise is not worth it. That he will not let Kuroo ruin his life for Kenma’s sake. That selling their bodies to the Government to use them as means of crowd entertainment is worse than anything he could imagine. That, to top it all, Kuroo doesn’t want to be a handler. Kenma has talked a lot that time; more than ever before and after in his whole life. In the end of Kenma’s passionate (!) speech, Kuroo has asked Kenma whether his decision, that he won’t become an Arena fighter to get his cancer cured, was final. As Kenma has said that yes, it was, and he was 100% sure, Kuroo has produced a thin metal blade, about as long as his palm, out of seemingly nowhere and put it to the pulse point of his own neck. “It’s your decision,” the raven’s said, “And this will be mine. I am not going to watch you die. I’m sorry, Kenma. I’m too selfish; I’m not ready to live without you”.

The razor blade in Kuroo’s long fingers reflecting the sun still comes to Kenma in his nightmares.

Kenma doesn’t remember his attempts of stopping Kuroo from hurting himself or persuading him to continue living after Kenma’s death instead of becoming Arena fighters together. He only remembers standing with Kuroo (still intact) in front of the Arena office, holding his hand, feeling a little deader on the inside and getting ready to sign his slave contract. “Kuroo is healthy; Kuroo can avoid this; Kuroo should go live a normal life while he still can!” has been ringing in Kenma’s head on a constant loop, and every repetition has made Kenma’s nausea stronger. It’s been a miracle Kenma hasn’t vomited while signing his contract. Kuroo didn’t look much better, but he did his best to be brave for Kenma. Kuroo always does.

Kenma’s memories of the events after that day are blurry. It’s as if his mind has taken a break to process the changes.

For example, he can hardly recall the day of their transformation. It’s been less painful than he has anticipated, but the sensation of becoming something else entirely has been very strange. The connection established with Kuroo has felt so weird at first. Now, Kenma thinks, losing this bond would be worse than losing all his limbs. Kenma has accommodated to his new powers and Kuroo’s level of control over him fairly quickly. The trainers couldn’t shut up and stop praising him for being so fearless. Narrow-minded imbeciles.

What was there to fear after he’s dragged his best friend, his lover and the only close person he had into the god-awful hole of despair called the Arena?...

Kuroo has been so proud of Kenma’s first victories. The black-haired boy himself didn’t show this much of a progress himself. He couldn’t hurt Kenma through their mental link as means of discipline; he couldn’t bring himself to physically control Kenma; he couldn’t order Kenma around like his pet dog; he couldn’t guide his metamorph the way it’s been required from a handler. Kenma took it upon himself to teach Kuroo how to “manage” him, how to make it look like Kuroo is the one making all decisions.

Kenma’s persuaded Kuroo that he doesn’t really mind being treated that way; that passing through their training is of more importance than staying on the same page they’ve stood before relationship-wise. Has Kenma even trusted himself while saying this bullshit to Kuroo? No, he hasn’t. Has Kuroo believed him for real? No, he hasn’t. Kuroo simply _wanted_ to believe him. Admitting to himself that satisfying the Arena training requirements has been equal to refusing Kenma his human dignity for the rest of his life would’ve broken Kuroo completely.

But if they would’ve failed at the start of the training, then all their previous struggles would’ve been for nothing. Kenma has just got a chance to live instead of perishing slowly on a sick bed; he was going to use it fully. They’ve been doing their best, he and Kuroo, giving the training everything they’ve got. What else was there for them to do in their new life? The hard work has been offering a reason to forget for a while, at least.

Kenma thinks, that back then he still cared, if even a little.

Everything would be so much easier if Kuroo could be the metamorph. Kuroo would take the opportunity to serve Kenma, to be held in submission by Kenma, as a privilege. If it was for Kenma, he would’ve been happy to be controlled, and guided, and even disciplined. That was how they’ve worked, always…

But the system doesn’t know errors, now does it?...

Kenma waits patiently, sitting on the steps leading to the chapel. As always, he is dressed in black, even has his black mask on, which covers the lower half of his face. Kenma doesn’t like attention. Kenma hates attention. He hates the crowds, he hates them with every nerve of his being even after all these years. This is the thing he envies Kuroo the most: the invisibility. The role of a handler is basically the role of a puppeteer, a man in the shadows, an unseen choreographer. Kenma could be the one hidden behind the curtain if their test would have shown a different result. Kenma doesn’t mind fighting and, sometimes, even killing; it’s like playing a game, but a bloodier and messier one. But being the center of attention is a torture in itself. But Kenma has found a solution long ago: he just has to win as quickly as possible to avoid trauma and leave the roaring masses behind. Every single time. Then he can forget about the public until his next match comes.

 

Metamorphs are not allowed to use their powers outside of training and fighting (the only exception is while staying at home). When Kuroo walks Kenma to the Arena and from it, Kenma always has his hood and his mask on. No one is allowed to get close to Kenma, to talk to him, not to mention _to touch_ him. This rule is Kenma’s favorite in the long set of Kuroo’s rules concerning him. Kuroo has become quite dangerous himself through these years, thank you very much, and no one risks his life in order to near Kenma. Iwaizumi and Tooru are a different matter, but even they may act friendly with Kenma only when they are in the safety of either of their homes. This is fine with Kenma.

Rules aside, if Kenma could just inform Kuroo that he goes with Tooru to the nearest love hotel and simply go fuck Tooru in a real bed with clean sheets after that, it would make his life so much easier. Instead, he earns himself a punishment by his handler for running away, freezes his ass off on stone steps, and Tooru will have to get boned on a sleeping bag. The worst of all, if Kuroo wakes up until Kenma returns, he will make him come back home using his power over Kenma. If it happens while Kenma and Tooru are still at it…This would be humiliating, to say the least.

Suddenly, Kenma feels lonely. And old. Why is Tooru taking so long this time? Kenma can’t refuse going down the memory lane while alone. Again, his mind wanders to the start of their fighting career. Come to think of it, how much time has passed since then? Like, 70 years? His and Kuroo’s families are long gone. Their living blood relatives don’t know that **Till** and his **Kitten** have ever been called Kuroo Tetsurou and Kozume Kenma.

 

Kenma has forgotten where the nickname Till comes from. Has it been the leader of a group that Kuroo liked or a folklore character, doesn’t matter. Kuroo has chosen Kenma’s nickname as a joke. A silly joke that has turned into Kenma’s life-time long nick-name. In truth, Kuroo could’ve called Kenma Flamingo, or Buttercup, or Sub-Zero, or whatever, Kenma couldn’t have cared less. But he never uses his “Kitten” nickname as a part of his performance on the Arena. Since he has become a metamorph and can turn into, practically, whatever he wants, he’s never turned into a cat. It feels fucked up, sue him.

 

Kuroo still calls him “kitten”, on the Arena and outside it. Kuroo may call Kenma whatever. Tooru gets kicked in the ass for trying to do the same, though.

Speaking of their first years at the Arena… It’s been not that bad in the beginning. Kenma didn’t have to wear a chain on his ankle while at home. He didn’t have to wear a collar either. Aside from when it’s been required, Kuroo has never used his handler’s ability to discipline Kenma when they’ve started.

 

What did it take to change that? Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. As a metamorph, Kenma has played a high-level game and has made a mistake in his calculations before a battle where he's been risking everything. As a result, he has stayed in a coma for nearly a year. Kenma tries not to judge himself too hard for this failure. He’s not ideal; nobody is. But back to his coma: if not for Kuroo, he would be dead by now. He would’ve died twice by now, if it was only possible, if not for Kuroo.

Kuroo is the one who has tied Kenma to the world of the living.

 

As Arena fighters, they get any medical treatment they need for free. Doesn’t mean the doctors like the injured metamorphs more because of that. The medics have considered Kenma a vegetable since month two after his fateful defeat and tried to switch the life support systems off in the beginning of month three. When it has happened, Kuroo has called Tooru and used him through a temporary link. The hospital personnel hasn't required from Kuroo to make another demonstration. When Kenma woke up, it’s been to Tooru sleeping in a form of giant snake, forming a circle around Kenma’s hospital bed. Kenma has never seen politer doctors and nurses than after awakening from the coma.

 

Tooru has explained to him that during Kenma’s year of unconsciousness Kuroo couldn’t sleep at all without a portion of a sedative. The perspective of losing Kenma made Kuroo lose his mind. Kuroo hasn’t expected to be in this situation again, after Kenma’s cancer has been cured. Tooru and Iwaizumi had to team up against Kuroo every single time they wanted to give him an injection of the sedative and make him sleep a little … A revelation after a revelation waited for Kenma those days. The most important thing has been to learn how much Iwaizumi and Tooru cherished him. Kenma didn’t know he had such good friends beside Kuroo. After all, Kenma can’t even imagine a year of comforting Kuroo, putting him to sleep, spending nights and days by Kenma’s bed, watching… Tooru and his handler are amazing. Kenma would do anything for them.

Kenma still doesn’t know how his handler and their friends have managed to avoid a severe punishment for using Tooru’s abilities outside the Arena. Or _whether_ they’ve managed.

 

After Kenma has awakened, he found out, that Kuroo won’t allow him to stay away from him even for a minute. Kuroo has become obsessed with Kenma’s safety. The black-haired couldn’t stand the idea of losing Kenma. One day he has come so close to a suicide attempt that Kenma has had to promise to take better care of himself and listen to Kuroo better. Which meant letting Kuroo control Kenma’s life fully, as it turned out. The first sign has been Kuroo willingly using his handler’s power to discipline Kenma (read: cause him immense pain when Kenma fails to obey Kuroo’s orders). To Kenma, it felt like a betrayal at first. Then he’s accepted Kuroo’s punishments, the pain, and the humiliation, and it’s become easier to handle. The collar, the chains, and the cage for Kenma to sleep in when he is being punished (it stands at the foot of their bed and has a soft padded floor), and everything else that has come into their life much later, in the course of another ten years or so, when Kuroo’s obsession has developed to another level.

 

With this background, Kenma has only one way to make Kuroo let him leave their house: to send Kuroo to sleep. Kuroo is always _a little_ angry after that. This is ridiculous, to slip away from his handler into the night. If Kenma only asked, Kuroo would let him and Tooru see each other whenever they wanted to. The thing is, it would be only possible at one of their homes, which is unacceptable for both Tooru and Kenma. They _need_ to be away from their handlers, even if it is for four-five hours per month if they are lucky.

 

Kenma sighs, thinking of his Kuroo. It’s such a struggle, to live with him, to be constantly watched, to follow all his stupid rules, to be there for Kuroo any minute of any day, while Kenma only wants to be left alone for a while.

Kenma knows the gossips going around about their couple. How Kuroo is a maniac who tortures Kenma and holds him in a cold concrete basement, without food, water or sleep... What gives Kenma the energy to be one of the best fighters the Arena has ever seen after such treatment, is inessential to the gossipers. Discussing new juicy details of Kuroo and Kenma’s life according to the local tattlers is one of Tooru’s favorite pastimes.

Kenma has to quench a hysterical giggle. People don’t even know how much truth their versions contain…

 

Usually, Kuroo is a very, very tender jailer. When Kenma behaves, Kenma is treated like a spoiled prince. Kuroo grants him every whim, takes care of everything and anything, while Kenma can lounge and play games. Between being spoiled and disciplined, Kenma has become a quite well-trained slave. Kuroo never calls him that; but their contracts with the Arena don’t include the word “slave” either. Kuroo says he’s proud of Kenma’s behavior lately. And when Kenma disobeys… Actually, it only happens once a month when Kenma and Tooru meet. Not that it makes Kuroo less furious each time.

The pattern of Kenma’s meetings with Tooru is so simple, that Iwaizumi and Kuroo know it by heart. And yet, Kenma manages to put his handler to sleep every month. Maybe, Kuroo plays along? Kenma doesn’t want to know. Even if that’s true and Kuroo allows Kenma this moment of freedom, when Kenma returns home today, he will get punished for “being an irresponsible little boy, who made his handler worry”. He will get spanked (wearing a garter set, no less; because there’s nothing Kenma hates more than wicked underwear), maybe, even whipped or caned a little, then Kenma will have to apologize to Kuroo staying on his knees in front of him, and then he’ll spend the rest of the night in his old little cage at the foot of their bed.

Sounds fun. Oh, Kenma can’t fucking wait.

Kenma sighs heavily. Is it humanly possible to untangle the weird mess his life has become? He’s always been the one for easy things; why did it have to come to this? Unexpectedly for himself, Kenma feels like crying. The stupid Tooru, taking so much time to come.

 

By the way, Tooru won’t get punished for sneaking out of the house, the bastard. Sometimes, just out of spite, Kenma wishes to witness Tooru being paddled by Iwaizumi as a punishment for being naughty and fleeing the house. Oh, that would be a glorious moment… Iwaizumi would use a lexan paddle, transparent, heavy and painful. He will make Tooru bend over a table and spank him full force until Tooru’s sweet bubble butt would acquire a nice cherry-red tincture. Tooru would cry so prettily while begging: “Hajime, Hajime, please, no more!”…

Kenma’s daydreaming is interrupted by the person he’s been waiting for half an hour.

 

“Hey, Kenma! Sorry for being late! What're you doing?” chirps Tooru’s melodic voice. The brunet is too energetic for his own good.

“Hi, Tooru. I was imagining you being paddled by your handler after I’d told him you need a proper punishment too,” answers Kenma seriously. He stands up and they walk into the chapel, where Kenma has already left the sleeping bag.

“Ke-enma-a! Why would you do that!” whines Tooru, and he’s so familiar, so silly and so well-loved despite all his shenanigans, that Kenma wants to cry again, just from finally being not alone. But Kenma reins himself and explains, still dead-serious:

 

“Because I’ll have to take a spanking today, again, and you’ll just come home and start crying at Iwaizumi’s shoulder because _ow how can Kuroo be so cruel to Kenma he’s such a tender little lamb why is Kuroo such a monster why do we love them both so much,_ ” the last words are sing-songed mockingly, in a poor imitation of Tooru’s lilting voice. Kenma believes that he, being him, deserves credit for simply trying to joke like that.

Tooru, seemingly, thinks the same, since he is looking at Kenma with a gaping mouth and a star-struck gaze. Kenma sighs in exasperation. He’s more than 90 years old. Why do they all need to get all cheesy around him. He was aiming at making Tooru smile, not at making him swoon from adoration because _oh our dear little Kenma can tease other persons look he’s so sweet oh my gosh_. Kenma isn’t even that small to be cooed over, damn it! 169 cm is a normal, average height! Not his fault he’s friends with three bastards towering above most other people. OK, maybe Iwaizumi gets teased because of his height by Tooru and Kuroo just as often as Kenma. But to hell with this nonsense. Now, when he has Tooru at hand, there are more urgent matters to consider.

“Are we even planning to do something?” Kenma asks impatiently.

“My baby is so eager today!” croons Tooru. “But yes, actually, today is meant to be my special day of cherishing you!”

Kenma looks around skeptically: naked marble walls, cold and dusty tiled floor, one sleeping bag. It’s Mai, and it’s still _cold_. When his unbelieving gaze meets Tooru’s enthusiastic one, Tooru exclaims:

“I’ve brought a tent! And a folding chair!”

 

Kenma stares incredulously. A tent? A folding chair? What next, a campfire?

Tooru. He’s been waiting for a month to have a “date” with this guy. What’s wrong with Kenma, really?

Suddenly, Tooru is below his eyes level. The brunet is kneeling in front of Kenma and, despite his humble pose, tries to get into Kenma’s personal space. He is successful.

Tooru leans closer to Kenma as if he’s going to kiss him, and Kenma wants to move, wants to shout at Tooru, but he is frozen and helpless, always the one to get too shy during intimacy. But Kenma’s partners usually know exactly how to treat him right…

Tooru’s gaze grows sultry and he whispers:

“I want you naked in front of me. Self-assured, the way I know you are while waiting to destroy whatever enemy they throw at you. Fierce and stunning, the way I see you every day in training and in battle. Unyielding, the way I witness you withstanding all hardships your daily life brings to you. And let me sing you the praise you deserve, let me cherish you, let me show you how gorgeous you are”.

Kenma shivers at all the implications hidden in Tooru’s words. He wants it, too. Apparently, he’s starved for Tooru’s full and undivided attention. Tooru may be _addicting_.

 

The brunet makes the tent (yes, he’s brought a tent for real) and positions the folding chair inside. He’s even brought some mini heating unit. Not that all these items could be heavy to carry for a trained person as Tooru, but still – this is a lot of preparations for a four-hours meeting with your long-time friend/lover. Of course, Kenma is meant to be undressed and positioned on the chair. The heater works perfectly quick, and shedding clothes won’t feel uncomfortable.

Tooru doesn’t make attempts at undressing Kenma, letting the latter do it at his own pace. He knows that this is what Kuroo does for Kenma, every day and that this won’t help to take Kenma out of his head. Although, it’d be wrong to assume that Tooru doesn’t want to undress Kenma; carefully, showing his utmost respect, starting the act of worship with this simple task… Kenma knows it, of course, and is grateful for Tooru’s understanding. It means a lot to him. He decides to stay clothed for now.

 

While Tooru undresses, Kenma sits himself on the chair, folds his legs gracefully and forgets about his shyness. This thing they have – it’s for Tooru too. They both need something not related to their handlers; something that will be only theirs. Tooru says that he would never be able to demonstrate all the awe he feels towards Kenma while Kuroo is watching (or may be watching). Kuroo likes his little kitten happy (as much as the said kitten can be while being a prisoner, thank you, Kuroo), which means letting Tooru adore his kitten, too. But you can never be too careful with a possessive maniac while fucking his life-partner, right? There’s one more reason to these meetings. Tooru needs these acts of selflessness to fill in the void he sometimes feels. Iwaizumi… Let’s say, Iwaizumi is a more mundane person than his younger lover. Tooru’s existence has given him a way to avoid his existential boredom, and Iwaizumi happily follows this path for about 63 years now. Tooru is happy with his handler as well. But he can’t be with Iwaizumi the way he is with Kenma: the older man would never let Tooru completely dedicate himself to him. Iwaizumi wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t be able to do it right. He couldn’t give Tooru what the brunet wants. Luckily, Kenma is willing to provide.

Kenma looks over Tooru's form critically: white lacy panties, a white garter set with stockings, an end of a butt plug protruding from the panties from behind.

“What I’ve told you about the gloves, Tooru? Have you left them at home…again?” Kenma’s voice is cold and condescending, and it makes things to Tooru. The beautiful man shivers lightly and pleads:

“Kenma, no, no, I’ll put them on right away! I’m sorry for being so slow today!”

 

Kenma graces his partner with a small smile. If they were in a different setting, Kenma would gladly reward Tooru with a kiss of a whip for disappointing him. The way it is, he can only scold him. Or be really mean to his sub.

While Kenma hides his annoyance, Tooru produces a set of elbow-length gloves from his back-pack and puts them on, finishing the ensemble.

“That’s better, Tooru. I’ve been afraid you’re unable to fulfill even such a simple command,” comments Kenma passively.

Tooru thanks Kenma for his patience. He knows how weak Kenma is against his apologies and uses this knowledge well. But Kenma doesn’t let himself be swayed so easily.

“On your knees in front of me. Put your hands behind your back and don’t dare to look up at me,” orders Kenma.

 

Tooru does as he is told. Kenma has noticed him greedily savoring the image of Kenma looking down at him, but this view is not for him to simply look at and enjoy. Tooru has to earn his pleasure, doesn’t he?

Kenma looks at his partner and suddenly wants to laugh from joy. All his woes seem to fade in the distance for the time being thanks to this wonderful man in front of Kenma. It’s been ages since he’s felt this free and light. He feels like a kid who’s been granted with the best toy of their choice.

Tooru, a fine specimen of a man, is on his knees just for Kenma, waiting for his orders. This kind of power tends to go to your head, thinks Kenma. Tooru is being so obedient; he doesn't even raise his gaze from the floor without Kenma's instruction, as he’s been taught to. Though Kenma knows: he wants to. By this point Tooru must be itching with the need to touch, to kiss, to sense; to be finally allowed to worship Kenma the way he desires.

It’s no secret that Tooru is the center of attention wherever he goes; he is the star, the golden boy, the role model. Fighters like him make naive school boys, who watch the Arena battles on TV, want to follow their example and come to fight on the Arena too. The way Tooru has done once. Unsurprisingly, he’s become a fine fighter, one of the best.

Nothing unexpected considering who have been his teachers (a proud little huff comes from Kenma).

 

Tooru looks marvellous on the Arena circle: brave, confident, dressed like in heroic movies. And take a look at Tooru now: humble and pliant, silent, nude aside from white lingerie and gloves. The brunet makes such a lewd picture. He is so good for Kenma.

Kenma feels silly for being nostalgic today. But he can't help recalling Tooru's first appearance at the great stadium. Anyway, Tooru needs some time now to settle in his current role, stop fidgeting and relax; that's why Kenma indulges himself in the memories of his partner’s young and eager version.

Tooru's been only 19 years old when he's come to the Arena in search of a pair. Luckily for him, the first person he's met has been Iwaizumi, not some rascal who only wants to convince a defenseless young person to do the test together and then use the unhappy victim all their life if they turn out to be the metamorph in their pair. Iwaizumi and Tooru have clicked right off the bat like they've been meant for each other. Iwaizumi's shouts of "dumbass", Tooru's indignant yelps after being hit or kicked, their passionate bickering non-stop... Absolute harmony. Not much has changed after more than fifty years of working and living as a couple. Despite their public masks, Tooru and his handler have managed to stay friends. It’s a real achievement.

Back then, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, and Kenma have spent days trying to persuade Tooru to _not_ join their infamous organization. All in vain, the boy has been stubborn like a ram. Kenma can’t believe how lucky he is that Tooru hasn’t listened to them; otherwise he wouldn’t have this harbor. Tooru isn’t unhappy, either; despite his friends' initial worries. He has once said: “My human body has been my worst prison”, and that’s the most important thing you have to know about his life philosophy. Kenma can relate, but only somehow: if not for his disease he wouldn’t have traded a calm ordinary (with a calm, normal Kuroo) life in his human body for this all. Even if you take into consideration that after the transformation the capabilities of Kenma’s body have increased…thousandfold? But they are so unlike, him and Tooru. Kenma has been satisfied with the body he has been born with. Tooru is an entirely different person; his fantasy has always pictured him as a super-hero, no less. He’s tried to be a professional sportsman, but his will has always been stronger than his muscles and joints. His body has failed him so many times, that he has lost count. That’s why Tooru has come to the Arena at 19: to finally feel that his body and spirit are one.

Doesn’t mean that Tooru never complains about how stupid the Arena is, how the Arena managers are using the fighters like circus animals, how he despises this place and blah, blah, blah.

Doesn’t mean that Kenma buys this bullshit and believes that Tooru doesn’t like being almost omnipotent by human measures.

Between Iwaizumi and Tooru, Iwaizumi has lucked out the most, to Kenma’s opinion. The way it was, at 40 Iwaizumi has been an emotional wreck. He’s lost his last job, he didn’t have a family, his profession of an advertisement producer has been slowly dying due to “head cheeses” taking on the field. He has been alone, broken and misanthropic. And then, one day, Iwaizumi’s met Tooru… and has failed to notice the moment when this selfish boy with his perpetual grin and stupid victory signs has secured himself a place in Iwaizumi’s life and ignited a new sparkle in him. Hopefully, Iwaizumi realizes how lucky he is that Tooru hasn’t complied when everyone has been telling him to run away from the Arena and _stayed_ instead.

But Tooru is lucky to have the three of them too, contemplates Kenma. They’ve supported the wilful man no matter what, protected or nurtured him, whatever has been necessary. Tooru has to be plenty grateful to all of them. Yeah, that’s right. Especially to Kenma, who is willing to let Tooru worship his body and give Tooru the outlet for his emotions that he craves. Yeah. Just like that. Not that Kenma thinks he’ll go mad without another scene with Tooru or something.

Kenma has never felt so lame while having a mental dialog with himself before.

Meanwhile, Kenma’s partner has stilled on the floor in front of Kenma, his breathing relaxed and his posture devoid of tension. This is the right mind space for Tooru to start their session for real.

“You may undress me now, Tooru,” announces Kenma in a smooth, cold tone. He sometimes uses this tone on the Arena, while talking to a losing rival on the field.

Tooru whispers something in response, barely audible; this won’t do.

“Answer me properly, if you want to touch me today,” adds Kenma sternly. This achieves the desired effect.

“I’m sorry, Kenma. May I undress you, please?” says Tooru humbly. He doesn’t lift his gaze or change his posture; _good boy_.

“Yes, you may. Don’t make me ask you twice again, understood?”

“Yes, Kenma”.

Kenma doesn’t say a word after that. He lets Tooru manhandle him a little, while the latter disrobes him. It is thrilling: to feel the immense power hidden in Tooru’s body focused on taking Kenma’s clothes off in the most careful way. Tooru proceeds until Kenma is in his sky-blue panties only. Blue is Tooru’s color, and the brunet can’t hide a little gasp of delight at the sight of the sheer fabric, barely covering Kenma’s half-hard length. As soon as Kenma is undressed enough, Tooru returns to his initial position, waiting for Kenma’s further commands. It’s a heady feeling – to have Tooru, the perfect, delicious Tooru, all dressed up and needy, obeying him. Oh, Kenma would love to ravish Tooru like this: to run his hands up and down his stocking clad thighs, to ruffle his fluffy curls, to kiss his lips swollen, to tease the base of the plug, to take the man apart with feather-light touches; and the beauty would let him, undoubtedly. This evening is not about ravishing pretty brunets, though; it’s about letting those brunets forget themselves at Kenma’s feet.

Talking of feet…

“Tooru?” inquires Kenma in a gentle, but even voice.

“Yes, Kenma?” Tooru perks up at the mention of his name; such a lovely pet he is.

“What would you like to do now, beautiful one?” continues Kenma, still gently.

A low whine is his response. Forgetting about his words so early in the game? Ah-ah, that won’t do.

“Oh, no, Tooru, be patient. Impatience won’t get you anywhere today,” Kenma’s voice acquires an edge of steel and sounds merciless even for his own ears. That’s necessary because right now Tooru needs to feel the power difference between them.

“Tell me, what you want, and I will maybe consider it,” offers Kenma after a pregnant pose, filled with Tooru’s heavy breathing. His lover falls apart a little faster than expected.

On the floor, Tooru shuffles his feet impatiently. Kenma can’t see his gloved hands, hidden behind his back, but he can imagine Tooru flexing his fingers, trying to come up with a not embarrassing answer. This is the hardest part for Tooru: to admit his wishes aloud. The first time is the hardest of all.

“I want…I want to…” stutters the man in white stockings before going silent again.

“So pathetic,” says Kenma condescendingly. “Would you try once more, pretty boy?”

Tooru outright sniffles at that. Despite his already submissive mind space, he needs a lot of coaxing to be finally able to let go and play the game he’s chosen himself. What a nuisance. But Kenma is a patient man, isn’t he?

Meanwhile, Tooru gathers his wits, breathes in deeply and asks pleadingly, but without a shadow of a doubt:

“May I kiss your feet, Kenma? I want to worship you; I want to show you how precious you are. Would you let me, please, Kenma, please.”

Tooru’s voice is laced with fierce determination, contrasting with his submissive pose. The sure and devoted tone of it makes goosebumps pepper Kenma’s skin. Kenma tries to hide his surprise and arousal behind cold phrases, but he knows that Tooru can read him just as good. Even at his feet, even having thrown himself into Kenma’s possession for the night, Tooru minds his initial goal and intends to do something to Kenma. But what exactly?...

 

In lieu of answering, Kenma untangles his legs and offers the left one to Tooru. He taps once on the floor, indicating his permission to touch. Tooru doesn’t waste more time. He starts with Kenma’s feet and kisses his way up, worshipping Kenma’s ankle, his knee, his thigh. Tooru keeps his kisses light and chaste; he looks like he’s enjoying his mission immensely. Kenma can hardly stop himself from shivering; he feels like an ancient priestess, who is being praised as the god’s vessel, with the selflessness Tooru shows while literally worshipping Kenma’s feet.

Kenma knows that Tooru prefers it messy; that he loves to leave marks; that he isn’t the one for going slow. Nevertheless, here he is, trailing kisses down Kenma’s left hip, tender and devoted. Kenma knows he needs to tell Tooru that he’s being good, to guide him further, but he is rendered speechless by the emotions that are welling up inside him. It’s been so long since he’s been touched with such a reverence, with so much awe. Kuroo… The black-haired never does things Kenma hasn’t approved of and would always stop if Kenma asks him to; but his every touch is possessive, heavy with the unspoken incantation of “Mine, mine, mine!” even when Kuroo is lightly tracing Kenma’s skin through his clothes. Kenma loves it, so very often. But he is not built for being someone’s obedient doll only; he does this for Kuroo because his handler needs it, needs Kenma. But Kenma grows tired of being available for Kuroo’s touch any time of the day; even if Kuroo gets it, he can’t fight his angst to lose Kenma and quench his possessiveness down. That’s why Tooru’s respect towards Kenma’s boundaries is like a gulp of fresh air.

Tooru looks up at Kenma with his warm chocolate eyes. Kenma can sense how he is slowly melting under this awe-struck and adoring gaze. Tooru indicates at Kenma’s right leg, and Kenma can only nod, allowing Tooru to worship him more.

Instead of controlling Tooru’s worship, Kenma finds himself on the verge of tears, lying on his back on the tent’s mattress and giving Tooru permission to kiss every next part of Kenma’s body the brunet chooses. Tooru’s touches never slip into the territory of sexual, staying close to the edge of it, but never stumbling over to the other side. As he’s promised, Tooru is cherishing Kenma, making Kenma feel gorgeous. But instead of staying self-assured and fierce and what else has Tooru mentioned in his initial speech, Kenma is raw and vulnerable, and he would say, emotionally bleeding under Tooru’s ministrations. He keeps his eyes open, following Tooru’s every move, every caress, every little kiss. Tooru’s smile where he presses little pecks to Kenma’s abdomen is small and tender. His brown eyes are alight with thought; Kenma can’t call the emotion in Tooru’s stare “pity”, but it is close. Not that Tooru pities Kenma; he’d never offend himself or Kenma with such an attitude. The thing behind Tooru’s gaze looks more like disappointment with the situation life has put Kenma in. Kenma can’t argue here since his life is far from ideal. But Tooru seems so sorry that Kenma doesn’t value himself, that Kenma doesn’t love himself. How could Kenma, though?

 

He’s the reason the person he’s loved more than anything in his life has had to sacrifice his future in order to save Kenma, then has gone insane during another attempt at saving Kenma. Kenma doesn’t deserve any of this. Hot tears are streaming down his cheeks, blurring his vision, as he tries to explain so much, to stop Tooru from further misunderstanding. From the two of them, Tooru deserves to be praised and cherished, not Kenma.

But Tooru shushes him with a gentle kiss on his lips; chaste, as all the other kisses have been. Kenma is too overwhelmed to protest for real. He simply lies there, accepts Tooru’s admiration and cries his eyes out.

 

When Tooru finally goes down on him after receiving a shaky nod as permission, the scalding heat of Tooru’s mouth is almost too much to bear. Kenma didn’t even know he’s managed to get so hard and sensitive despite his heavy emotions. Tooru nudges his panties out of his way and swallows the cockhead, making Kenma almost wail from the intensity of it. Tooru keeps sucking, and licking, and pumping, his every caress like a brand, his every touch making Kenma arch his back or try to curl up around Tooru’s head. When Kenma comes, it's like a tidal wave is running through him and rinsing all the blackness that has been gathered inside Kenma’s heart and head through the years, the flow filling him to the brink and then leaving hollow on the inside. Kenma feels empty, but it’s a good kind of emptiness – the one that makes Kenma get ready for something _new_. It’s nothing but a cathartic experience.

Kenma comes to his senses slowly. He is wrapped up in a blanket, while Tooru sits beside him, dressed and good to go. Kenma has a lot of questions to his lover, but all of them seem unimportant when he feels a tug from his handler through their mental connection. Kuroo is waking up and thinking of him. Kenma should hurry up and leave.

Kenma doesn’t have words for Tooru. He looks at his lover and tries to convey his gratitude with his gaze. Tooru only smiles at him, warm and pleased. The wavy-haired man looks sated as well; hopefully, he’s got off nicely while Kenma’s been floating.

The two of them leave in 20 minutes, and Kenma feels Iwaizumi’s presence not far from them. So, Tooru trusts his handler even more than Kenma has thought. Good for them, huh?

 

 

The same second Kenma enters his and Kuroo’s house, he is getting pinned to the nearest wall. Kenma’s back meets the hard surface with a loud thud, and it’s all he can do not to whimper in pain.

“Do you really think I don’t know?” hisses Kuroo in his ear. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Kenma already wants to shut himself down in his own head the way he’s been doing so often in order to survive with his possessive madman of a life-partner, but something stops him.

 

Unexpectedly for himself, he uses his metamorph abilities to wiggle out of Kuroo’s grip and pin his handler to the wall instead. Kenma looks into the amber eyes across of him and sees so much pain, so much struggle, that he too, like Tooru before, wants to mourn all the opportunities Kuroo has lost and to hate the situation they’re in now. But… This way of thinking is counterproductive. Before Kuroo gains the upper hand, orders Kenma to hide his metal arms and stay completely still, Kenma pins him harder, raises himself in the air and kisses Kuroo on the lips, hard.

It’s rough and bruising, and nothing like Kenma’s every-day persona, but Kuroo kisses Kenma back just as fervently and nearly growls, licking into Kenma’s mouth. They don’t part until Kenma feels something hot and wet falling on his cheeks. He opens his eyes to see Kuroo crying.

He hasn’t seen Kuroo crying since the time he’s awakened from coma about 59 years ago.

Kenma lets his handler go, hides his metallic limbs and hugs his beloved close to his chest. They stand in the hallway, both a mess of tears, snot, and emotion, holding onto each other and just breathing in tune. They haven’t said anything, but they don’t really need to. They’re both smart enough to skip the explanations part, and their link makes their emotions tangible for the partner.

 

Kenma doesn’t put his ankle chain on, and Kuroo doesn’t remind him too. That’s so different from just this morning that Kenma wants to cry anew. Kuroo lets him undress himself and come to the bed when he is ready. Kuroo seems hesitant now; itching with the need to leave everything like it’s been for decades and at the same time realizing that their life can’t go on like before. Not when they’ve lost all points of contact. Not when Kenma needs to hide from _him_ , from Kuroo who loves him more than anything in the world. From Kuroo whom Kenma loves just as much.

 

They lie down on the opposite sides of the bed and gravitate towards each other slowly, as if expecting the partner to fly away any moment, or as if they may wake up to their previous life, full of alienation tangled up with loyal devotion. Finally, they are in each other's arms. They’ve always slept together, so there's nothing new, and yet, there is.

They spend maybe half an hour, thinking, hoping, enjoying each other’s closeness, until finally, the blockade is broken and the rush of words becomes unstoppable.

Kuroo tells Kenma how he’s been trying to prevent himself from bursting into Kenma’s meetings with Tooru every time, and only Iwaizumi’s promises to keep an eye on their two metamorphs allowed him to do so. How he’s been aching with the desire to feel Kenma again, to be trusted by Kenma again. In the end of their conversation, both men are in tears.

Kenma wipes his eyes with their blanket and whispers:

“It’s good that I’m the metamorph in our pair, after all”.

“Why?” asks his beloved incredulously and tilts his head to look at Kenma at a better angle, his eyes glinting with joy at the expected joke.

“Because I can form any limbs I want, not only the metallic ones,” answers Kenma, as if it’s self-explanatory.

“And?” prompts Kuroo, getting impatient.

“You’ve been the one who dreamed of being tentacle-fucked, not me,” insinuates Kenma in the flattest voice he can muster. Kuroo freezes beside him, his gaze growing _a little hungrier_. “You still want it, don’t you, Tetsurou?”

The possibility of a more sinful reunion is lost now since at the sound of his given name Kuroo can’t stop another crying fit. He wails into Kenma’s shoulder, sobs and clings to his partner’s smaller frame like it’s a lifeline. Kenma supposes Kuroo’s missed being called Tetsurou by him. That’s OK; soon he’ll have no chance to start missing it again.

Still sobbing, Kenma’s wrecked life-partner lifts his head, kisses Kenma on the nose sloppily and asks, his words still slurred but his voice full of mischief:

“Can I still have them? My tentacles?”

“ _My_ tentacles, and yes, you can have them if you want,” replies Kenma smugly. And adds in a small, fond voice:

“ _My Tetsurou_ ”.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey  
> Thanks for reading, pretty kittens!  
> What do you think about this new AU? Has everything been clear with it? I have so many headcanons about it in my mind)))
> 
> Please, check out my other fics in these series if you liked this one!
> 
> I'd be very glad to make new friends on Tumblr! [Maria-Falka](http://maria-falka.tumblr.com/)


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